


Peacock vs. Predator

by HitanTenshi



Category: Bleach
Genre: Kind of a threesome, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Winter War (Bleach)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HitanTenshi/pseuds/HitanTenshi
Summary: “—Beforeyou try to dismember me,” says the fifth seat as he takes one step away from the threat Kensei presents, “let me remind you that this situation is entirely your own fault, Muguruma-taichou. You beat around the bush so long that Shuuhei gave up.”“Gave up onfuckin’ what!?”And the smile Ayasegawa sends him is so melancholy, sodeeply woundingthat Kensei finds himself momentarily disarmed. “I think you know. But, if you need it put bluntly: Shuuhei ishopelesslyin love with you.”





	Peacock vs. Predator

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was sitting half-finished in my google drive for over a year, oops

Muguruma Kensei has, thus far, managed to readjust to his position as Captain of the Ninth Division. He still has trouble remembering the new names and faces, and occasionally he will catch himself turning a corner and expecting to see Kasaki or Toudou or Eishima. (It certainly doesn’t help that Eishima’s brat brother has joined the division and is a mere stone’s throw from the spitting image.) But Tousen is still here, looking at him out of the dead eyes of his lieutenant.

Several emotions had traversed Kensei’s brain upon being reintroduced to Hisagi Shuuhei. First: simple shock. To think that whimpering whelp had lasted this long, let alone fought against the hardships of life with enough vigor to become a lieutenant in the Gotei 13, _let alone_ lieutenant of _his_ division! That had led to pride — it had felt good to know that the life he had saved on that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day had put itself to good use in his absence. And it had felt _better_ to see his mark on the kid’s face, as if the boy had decided he wanted the whole world to know to whom he owed the life he had been given. The matter of Tousen, of Shuuhei’s attachment to him in the face of the events Aizen Sousuke had orchestrated, had left more than its share of sour spots in Kensei’s interactions with his lieutenant, but, on the whole, pride is the overarching sensation he gets when watching how capable an officer Shuuhei is.

In fact, it’s something _more_ than pride: something that growls in his chest, something his hollow can admit is _longing_ . A hundred years in the human world with a bunch of oddball clods hadn’t lent him much opportunity for entanglements, and the need to _claim_ and _own_ is a characteristic that had only grown more prominent since crossing that line from shinigami to visored. Even before that, when Eishima Shinobu had fostered a dalliance with the captain, Kensei had been known, despite the relationship having been nothing all that serious, to bare his fangs at anyone who had taken a wrong step toward _his territory_.

With Shuuhei? It’s all worse. Not only does Kensei bark at anyone who so much as _breathes_ at his lieutenant, but he barks at Shuuhei himself. Kensei has never been good with gentle, never good with expressing his feelings, and he knows that he’s sending all the wrong signals to a kid already battered by the disconnect from _one_ captain. Actually… battered doesn’t even cover it. Shuuhei is on the verge of _shattering_ _completely_ , and everyone in Gotei knows it. Part of Kensei wants nothing more than to scoop the kid up and hide him away where nothing else can hurt him, where Kensei can pound out all the dents and rips until the kid is whole again (and _wholly his_ instead of half Tousen’s, but that’s a separate issue). The other, more ruthless part, wants to wait for Shuuhei to break so that he can pick up the pieces and start his work of claiming ownership from there. To top that dilemma off, there’s still a part of him that sees Shuuhei as the wailing waif from a hundred years ago, and the last thing he wants is to feel like some kind of child-groomer by taking the kid to bed. No matter which way he tries to work it all out, he knows it’ll be rough and awkward and he risks causing more harm than good, and all that frustration comes out as a reprimand here, a harsh look there, until Shuuhei is clearly avoiding him altogether. Fuckin’ brilliant.

The work still gets done, of course, but it’s Eishima (the brat brother, Satoru) handing it in rather than Shuuhei himself. After over three weeks of seeing neither hide nor hair of his lieutenant, Kensei tries for a drastic measure. Hoping to instigate jealousy in the kid over maintaining his position, Kensei submits a request for Mashiro to return to duty as a co-lieutenant (she insists on referring to her rank as _Super Duper Lieutenant_ , the little grasshopper). The day after the reinstatement announcement is made, Kensei is sitting at his desk signing this and that when he feels it: Shuuhei’s reiatsu. The sense of satisfaction that starts forming in his gut is short-lived, however, because, when the shouji slides open with a _clack_ , it isn’t Shuuhei standing before him. He vaguely recognizes the individual from the battlefield — those bright-ass feathers are hard to miss — but can’t put a name to the face. But he is _definitely_ feeling Shuuhei’s reiatsu spilling out of this person, and that fact alone sets him on edge.

“Who’re you?” He prompts, barely lifting his eyes to the stranger.

The man (at least Kensei _thinks_ this person a man — he’s got a face so damn elegant that he could probably pass off as a woman if he wanted to) offers a shallow bow. “Eleventh Division Fifth Seat, Ayasegawa.”

“Whaddya want?”

“I’m here to deliver a letter to you, Muguruma-taichou.” Which he then extends toward him on a slender arm. Kensei snatches it away from the fifth seat and sees Shuuhei’s name, but not in the kid’s penmanship. (It isn’t as if he’s been studying the brat’s hand via notes on documents or anything, of course not.)

“The hell is this?”

Ayasegawa doesn’t even flinch at the gruff challenge. “Just because I was the scribe doesn’t mean I’m going to rob you of the pleasure of reading Shuuhei’s thoughts yourself.”

 _Given name_ and _no honorific_ ? Something deep in Kensei’s bones kindles a flame of rage. This little peacock is gonna _die_ as soon as he finishes reading.

“That’s some murderous intent you have, Muguruma-taichou. I can see why my captain thinks you’d be a good fight. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to collect Shuuhei’s things so Kuna-san can use the room once she arrives.”

Wait… _what_!? “Don’t you move, Ayasegawa,” Kensei all but growls. “You stay put until I read this damned letter, which you had better hope I believe isn’t forged.”

The fifth seat smiles knowingly and shifts his weight to lean against the nearest wall. Guessing his eyes have shone with that blood-red color that only happens when he’s good and pissed, Kensei lowers his gaze to the letter and unfolds it.

_Muguruma-taichou,_

_I want to apologize. I haven’t been the lieutenant you deserve, and I agree wholeheartedly with your decision that Kuna-san should take my place. I had hoped to be able to work with you, alongside you, but I understand now that such a thing is impossible. I’m simply not suited for your division — perhaps I never was. You can consider this my resignation until I can convince Eishima to file the papers for me._

_I can’t put into words how sorry I am that I’ve let you down, taichou. I never meant to be a burden, but it’s clear that I am one, and that’s all the proof I need that I should leave. I wish you nothing but the best._

_Sincerely,_

_Hisagi Shuuhei_

Somewhere along the way, Kensei’s brow relaxes by a fraction, and that peacock, Ayasegawa, must catch his shift in expression, because he chuckles, drawing Kensei’s eyes to him at once.

“I guess that means you _weren’t_ expecting this,” says the fifth seat.

Features hardening once more, Kensei glares. “What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Lavender eyes fix on him intently from underneath dark, decorated lashes, as if he knows that the increase in vulgarity signals a touched nerve. “Shuuhei thinks you’ve abandoned him, Muguruma-taichou. He thinks you find him unworthy and unwanted, and that you think he should just — oh, what was the phrase you’ve muttered in his presence several times? Ah yes — _‘piss off.’_ ”

That is _most assuredly not_ something Kensei wants to hear. “And how the fuck would _you_ know all that?”

“Because he _told_ me, of course. He tells me _everything_ these days.”

Kensei’s stomach lurches. Just what does _that_ mean? Why would Shuuhei be confiding in this trumped-up bird boy from the Eleventh!? Had… Had Kensei not even had a chance of winning the kid over this whole time? “Is that why you’ve got his reiatsu all over ya like a fuckin’ perfume?”

Ayasegawa raises a feather-adorned eyebrow. “Something like that. I wasn’t aware that you’d noticed.”

Kensei’s hands slam against the wood of his desk as he stands in a rush of fury, a flicker of black dancing around the edges of his sclera. “You little—”

“— _Before_ you try to dismember me,” says the fifth seat as he takes one step away from the threat Kensei presents, “let me remind you that this situation is entirely your own fault, Muguruma-taichou. You beat around the bush so long that Shuuhei gave up.”

“Gave up on _fuckin’ what_!?”

And the smile Ayasegawa sends him is so melancholy, so _deeply wounding_ that Kensei finds himself momentarily disarmed. “I think you know. But, if you need it put bluntly: Shuuhei is  _hopelessly_ in love with you.”

Triumph and dismay mix together in Kensei’s chest, leaving him open-mouthed and rooted to the spot, so Ayasegawa continues uninterrupted.

“He’s probably been in love with you for most of this past century. You were _everything_ to him. Even his loyalty to Tousen Kaname was rooted in a belief that he was honoring your memory by devoting himself entirely to the Ninth and to its captain.” He sighs dramatically. “To think all his pining would lead to being tossed aside by you like a used rag. It’s quite sad, really.”

That’s it —  this prattling has gone on long enough. “Where is he?” Because damn it all if he isn’t going to sort out this misunderstanding right now! Whatever else happens, he wants to keep the kid by his side. “Where is Shuuhei?”

“He made me promise not to tell you. He doesn’t know I’ve spoken to you about his feelings — only that I’ve delivered his letter to you. But…” And he has the gall to wink at Kensei. “I’m sure a wolf with a nose keen enough to filter out Shuuhei’s reiatsu from mine will have no trouble.”

And, before Kensei can demand for a more thorough answer than that, Ayasegawa is gone with the _whoosh_ of a shunpo.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Well, there’s no way he’s going to let things sit like that. No way in hell.

Ayasegawa had been right to call him a wolf. Kensei certainly has a sense of smell like one, especially in the reiatsu-tracking sense. After forcing himself to finish the day’s paperwork simply so that, when Mashiro will arrive later that evening, she won’t be able to send the stuff flying everywhere on some giddy whim, Kensei stands to leave the captain’s office around sunset.

“Taichou?” It’s Eishima. Oh, that’s right. Shuuhei had mentioned their fourth seat and something about his filing Shuuhei’s resignation. Best put an end to that here and now.

“Eishima. I’m told that Hisagi—” (Gods, it’s weird calling Shuuhei by his family name.) “—wants you to tender his resignation from the division.”

The redhead’s eyes sharpen by a fraction. “Yes, sir,” and, to Kensei’s surprise, he smiles, “but he didn’t _order_ me to.”

Kensei grins in response, glad that _someone_ around here can keep up. “Good man.”

Eishima bows and wishes him a good night.

Kensei strides confidently from the Ninth, senses already reaching out as Tachikaze draws the surrounding air to him for analysis. He’ll find that bastard Ayasegawa and _make_ him tell where Shuuhei is. Damn right he will! With that determination in mind, Kensei catches the scent he’s looking for and follows it at top-speed. If someone stops him and asks why he’s carrying his sword in peacetime, well… at least he has an _“old habits die hard”_ excuse from his time in exile.

Sure enough, the trail leads to the Eleventh Division. At this proximity, Kensei can distinguish Ayasegawa’s reiatsu from Shuuhei’s, but both seem to be emanating from the same person. _Bingo_ . Eventually, he reaches the wing of the barracks for seated officers and pinpoints the peacock in one of the outer suites, facing a surrounding grove. Stealthily, he approaches, and just as he reaches the wall beside the nearest shouji leading into the rooms, he detects a second source of reiatsu. _Shuuhei_.

Or, at least, it _ought_ to be Shuuhei. The scent is definitely the same as the one hanging around Ayasegawa for no damn discernible reason, but it’s faint… much too faint. No lieutenant of his would ever have such a weak reiatsu, and _certainly_ not Shuuhei. He’s about to burst in there to find out just what the hell is going on when Tachikaze pulls at a spot above his navel, bidding him stay with words quiet as the whisper of the wind. This is an opportunity, the zanpakuto reasons, to hear how Shuuhei truly feels, without the restriction of Kensei’s presence clamping down which thoughts he can express. It twists Kensei’s stomach into knots to know the kid doesn’t trust him, but — as Ayasegawa had said — this situation is his own damn fault. So, he heeds his sword’s caution, crouching low and tightening the reins on his own reiatsu to avoid detection as he slips under the engawa. It’s not the most comfortable fit, but it gets him nearly directly below Shuuhei and Ayasegawa.  That done, he closes his eyes and relies solely on hearing.

“—an go back tomorrow and get your things from the lieutenant’s quarters. I’m sure Eishima-kun would be happy to help, too.”

“…okay…”

Shuuhei’s voice is soft, almost too much so to hear it through the tatami. Something is wrong — _very_ wrong. The kid’s voice has a hoarseness to it, like putting the energy into speaking is almost too much for him. His reiatsu shudders with the stress of it, and the sensation nearly sends Kensei into a rage again. Just what the hell has Ayasegawa done to his boy?

There’s shuffling from above and the subtle creak of shifting weight across the mats.

“Shuuhei, you have to eat something.”

“…no, thanks…”

“You’re wasting away, fool. Come on, I’ll even spoon-feed you.”

“…’m fine…”

There’s a sound, but, with his eyes closed, Kensei can place it with surprising ease: a kiss lightly pressed. “…You’re really not. _Please_ , Shuu? For me?”

Shuuhei must roll over, because his feeble voice throws in a different direction when he next speaks. “If you… really wanna help me, Yumichika… then I wanna do it again.”

Ayasegawa sighs. “You know as well as I do that it isn’t helping you one bit. If anything, it’s made you _worse_ . Sure, it was fine when we only did it occasionally, but you aren’t giving yourself time to recover in-between. It’s like you—! …like you _want_ me to end up killing you.”

That chills Kensei’s blood, but it’s nothing compared to the icy front that rolls in when Shuuhei replies.

“That’s the idea, yeah.”

Shuuhei wants to _die_ ? Is it _his fault_ ? An innocent patch of moss lying on the ground next to Kensei becomes the victim of his suppressed fury. This whole damn mess could be just because he hadn’t known how to handle the kid, how to nurture him and make sure he’d know every day that he’s the most important thing Kensei’s ever laid eyes on. And now his boy wants to throw away the life _he_ had saved? That stabs somewhere _deep_.

“You’re a fool,” Ayasegawa mutters, his voice equal parts pity and anger. There’s a pause, and then, “If I do it, you have to eat afterward.”

“Provided I’m… still breathin’, you mean.”

“I’ll make sure you’re still breathing, Shuuhei. Deal?”

Shuuhei exhales slowly, and even that makes his weak reiatsu flicker. “…deal.”

What happens next, Kensei isn’t certain, but some sounds come across clearly, and, where his blood had run cold before, now it boils. There’s a great deal of fidgeting from above, punctuated by the messy sounds of lips on lips. Ayasegawa is kissing his boy. _His_ boy. And, what’s more, Shuuhei seems to be soaking it up like a sponge. His reiatsu even flares with bursts of renewed energy as he makes little noises into Ayasegawa’s mouth. Those desperate moans not only infuse Kensei with jealousy, but also go straight to his body. It’s really not that hard, with his eyes shut like this, to picture that _he’s_ the one making Shuuhei produce those sounds. Kissing him deep and rough and watching him gasp when Kensei finally lets him get a good gulp of air. Moving his hungry mouth over the kid’s scarred but nonetheless beautiful body and listening to the quaking whimpers when Kensei latches onto a sensitive spot and sucks, leaving a mark behind on golden skin. Letting his imagination get the better of him, of course, has its consequences, and Kensei is momentarily tempted to jerk off to the sounds Shuuhei is making above him in order to deal with them. But, no, it’s fine. He’s fine. It’s fuckin’ sexy and all, but he can hold out until he’s truly in private. In the meantime, he’s going to brand these noises into his brain for later retrieval.

“Are you ready?” Ayasegawa’s voice is breathy with desire, and Shuuhei whines under him.

“S-Stop teasing me, Yumi…”

“Ask properly, Shuu, or you don’t get anything more.”

“F… Fuck…”

“Yes, Shuuhei?”

“Fuck… me. _P… Please_ , Yumichika. Fuck me. Drain me dry. Please!”

Ayasegawa shushes the final cry and deposits another kiss, from the sound of things. “Keep your voice down. Someone might hear us, you know.”

…Why does Kensei get the sense that comment is somehow meant for _him_? No, it can’t be! He’s been so careful not to let his reiatsu spread out! Ayasegawa must just be referring to the rest of the Eleventh, yeah, that’s it. Kensei doesn’t have time to get distracted for long, though, because the sound Shuuhei makes next is… damn, maybe he will take advantage of this opportunity after all, because there’s no way his memory can do justice to the real thing. The kid veritably _bays_ for Ayasegawa, and the smack of skin on skin makes it obvious why. That goddamn peacock is fucking his boy, and soundly too. Several times, Shuuhei begs for more, for harder, faster, and Ayasegawa gives it to him. And, gods, does the kid moan when he does. Surely Kensei’s never listened to something so sexy in all his life. To think his lieutenant has _this kind_ _of side_ to him only makes Kensei want him _more_ , for there’s no better match than someone who wants to claim and someone who wants claiming. It’s like Shuuhei had been made just for him — and he knows that’s a selfish thought, but he doesn’t stop it. Everything in him — soul, sword, and hollow alike — wants that boy under him _now_!

Just as he decides to slip one hand down his hakama, however, the air above him changes, shocking him into retracting it immediately. Ayasegawa’s reiatsu skyrockets, rivalling what Shuuhei’s ought to be, even surpassing it. Shuuhei’s cries grow weaker, as does his reiatsu, but Ayasegawa’s pressure flourishes, as if…

As if Ayasegawa’s is _devouring_ Shuuhei’s.

With a creak of tatami mat, the fifth seat likely leans forward, head close to the floor, because even his commanding whisper carries through: “Now _come_.”

And damn if the kid doesn’t do just that, even if the cry from his orgasm is so feeble that it’s barely audible. His reiatsu is akin to a single candle flame now, and _still_ it seems to fade.

“Mmm, you carried me with you, Shuuhei.” Ayasegawa’s voice is gentle and soothing now. “You did very well.”

“…Yu…mi…” Shit, the kid’s voice is almost as faint as Tachikaze’s.

“Hush. You sleep now. Then food, all right? We made a deal.”

“…kay…”

“Good.”

There’s a long pause, during which time Kensei loses all sense of Shuuhei’s reiatsu, like trying to spot a pinprick of light in a dark chasm. Horror and panic make attempts to seize control of him, but he fights them off. Ayasegawa had promised Shuuhei that he’d still be breathing, and — as much as the guy pisses him off — he doesn’t seem like the sort who would lie to Shuuhei. Finally, however, the silence ends.

“You know, Muguruma-taichou, one of the upsides of having an excess of reiatsu in my body is that my senses become about as keen as yours. Won’t you come out from that filthy place and join me?”

Kensei’s face might give Eishima’s hair a run for its money for how the anger and embarrassment heating his face turn it dark red. But before he can so much as retort, Ayasegawa lifts the corner of the tatami mat above him and peers down, smug as anything.

“From the look on your face,” he all but purrs, “I assume you enjoyed the show.”

“…Fuck you.”

“I’m not up for another round right now, thanks.” But he offers Kensei a hand up, which the visored reluctantly takes. Having laid so still in that cramped space for a good chunk of an hour has him sore in the shoulders and hips, and he arches his back in a much-needed stretch upon entering the proper main floor of the suite. Then, of course, his immediate concern is Shuuhei, and he casts about the room in search of the kid. Upon spotting him, though, he has to double-take.

Shuuhei had always been stringy, even a little _scrawny_ , but now he looks downright _underfed_. The yukata no doubt borrowed from Ayasegawa seems to swallow him as he lays on top of a futon, still as death.

“He’s not—”

“He’s alive, but he’ll be out for a while yet. It’s something like a brief coma. He’ll wake once his reiatsu stabilizes.” Having set Kensei’s unorthodox entryway to rights, the fifth seat offers a cup of tea, which Kensei (again begrudgingly) accepts. It doesn’t seem right to do anything short of beat into a bloody pulp the man who’d just been laying claim to _his lieutenant_ , but some old god must grace him with the patience to hear Ayasegawa out.

“Has he been here this whole time?” Kensei asks. “Hiding out with you?”

“Yes. Eishima-kun ported his papers back and forth, but eventually, Shuuhei grew too weak to sign them himself, and Eishima-kun took on the work directly. That’s why I wrote the letter. It was all Shuu could do to dictate the words for me.”

“And you’ve been… what, a _reiatsu vampire_ all the while?”

Ayasegawa actually laughs at that, but he quickly regains composure and answers the question properly. “Yes, I suppose that’s a fairly accurate way to put it, but I swear to you that I’ve only done so in this context when he asked me to. I prefer to keep this particular ability of mine hush-hush. Shuuhei was actually the first person to learn about it. That’s what started our relationship in the first place.”

With a light blanket in hand, Ayasegawa sits beside Shuuhei’s futon, and Kensei does the same. There, after draping said blanket over the eerily still form of Shuuhei, Ayasegawa explains in brief their history together: the duel during the events which had revealed Aizen’s betrayal of Soul Society, the subsequent nights where Shuuhei had stumbled to the Eleventh and begged Ayasegawa for another taste of that sensation of being utterly drained, the unspoken understanding that had developed between them where both had needs and desires sated by their dalliance. It had worked quite well, Ayasegawa claims. He had fit a niche in Shuuhei’s web of causal lovers — and yes, there is apparently a _web_ that weaves in and out of the Seireitei _and_ the Rukongai (Kensei will have to make a list of these people he obviously needs to castrate) — and both had been content with the situation. That is… until the war against Aizen. After Tousen’s death, Shuuhei had never been the same — all of Gotei 13 knows that. The kid had begun, slowly but surely, to wither, and now Kensei can finally see _why_.

Shuuhei had put his hope, his will to live, into Kensei’s ability to accept him, and — through Kensei’s blunders — been _severely_ disappointed. That, on top of the grief everyone had seen spilling out of him over the loss of his mentor, had driven him to Ayasegawa, to this strange rush he could get from brushing death’s doorstep… and to where they are now.

“…Do you love him?”

Kensei’s head snaps up, crimson eyes narrow as he glares at Ayasegawa. “You think I _don’t_?”

“Well—” The fifth seat tucks a stray strand of dark hair behind an ear. “—you certainly have odd ways of showing it. From Shuu’s descriptions, your behavior made Abarai-kun sound like a well-bred gentleman.”

Whipping out a mental notepad, Kensei presses, “Is _Abarai_ one of the kid’s lovers?”

Ayasegawa smiles coyly. “We don’t _all_ kiss and tell, taichou.”

A tremor of reiatsu draws both of their attention to Shuuhei, who, sure enough, stirs ever so slightly.

“I’d better get the bath running for him,” says Ayasegawa. “He’ll be terribly cold.”

Kensei watches the fifth seat stand and feels suddenly useless. “What should _I_ —”

“You’re right where you should be, taichou. I can’t think of anything more poetic than for you to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up, don’t you agree?”

“But—”

“Try not to make him cry, all right?”

“But—!”

“If the words won’t come out to tell him how you feel, then just use actions. Shuu likes that better anyway.”

“But—!!!”

It’s no use. Ayasegawa disappears into the bathroom, humming to himself as if all is right with the world. Fuckin’ peacock. With nothing else for it, Kensei waits beside Shuuhei, watching with immense curiosity the sorts of faces the kid makes as he wakes. To call it breathtaking would sell his impression short, but he’s probably biased by the fact that he wants nothing more than to lean down and erase any lingering taste of Ayasegawa from his boy’s lips. Eventually, those slate gray eyes open into narrow slits, clamping shut a few times in protest against the well-lit room. At long fuckin’ last, though, Shuuhei looks at him.

“…Tai…chou?”

“Hey, brat.” Shit, that probably isn’t the best start, but Kensei feels a little better knowing he’d said it with all the tenderness he possesses (which isn’t all that much, but still). “Your reiatsu’s weaker than a newborn hollow’s. The hell’s up with that?”

Shuuhei bites his lip and suddenly finds the nearby wall very interesting.

“…That was a _joke_ , kid. Your feathered friend filled me in.”

The brat’s head whips back around (as much as it can in his groggy state) with eyes wide and mouth open in horror, and damn it all if Kensei’s control nearly slips out of his fingers at the sight of him.

“T… Taichou, I—”

“Look, kid… I know I’ve treated you like shit. I just… well…” Remembering Ayasegawa’s advice, though, Kensei follows his gut and throws caution to the wind. “Aagh, fuck, I’m no good at apologies,” is his only segue, because, next moment, he’s all but dropped his weight onto Shuuhei, capturing his open mouth without so much as an _“if you please”_ and tasting him right from the get-go. The kid’s reaction is everything he could have hoped for: a startled squeak, then a series of none-too-quiet moans muffled by Kensei’s fierce kiss. Weak, trembling arms somehow find the strength to wrap around his muscular neck, and he responds by pulling back, lifting the freakishly-light frame of his boy from the futon as he goes so that Shuuhei ends up on his knees, leaning into him fully.

Just as Kensei decides that kissing Shuuhei is the best decision he’s ever made and he can’t wait to see more of his boy unwrapped like the best present he’s ever received — just as his brawny hands slide down Shuuhei’s wiry back to cup a pair of tightly toned cheeks — Ayasegawa returns to the main room with a masterful smirk. Without a word to either of them, he retrieves his cup of tea and settles across the room, clearly intending to watch what’s about to unfold in front of him. Well, then, Kensei will have to pay him back double for flaunting his actions with Shuuhei earlier.

His kisses seem to have done Shuuhei a surprising world of good (or perhaps not so surprising, considering what Ayasegawa had said about the kid having been in love with him for something like a hundred years). Like before, the kid’s reiatsu has reacted to the stimulation, kindling an inner fire with each touch. There’s even some real color behind his faded golden complexion. What then will happen if they go further?

“Now listen up, brat.” His mouth presses against Shuuhei’s ear, tickling the kid with his hot breath. “I have every intention of fucking you right here and right now, thanks to that goddamn display Ayasegawa made of you earlier. If you’ve got any objections, better voice ‘em now.”

For a moment, all that comes out of Shuuhei is a breathless stammer of disbelief, but then— “ _Fuck_ , taichou…”

“Is that a _‘fuck, no, taichou?’_ I have a name, brat. Use it.”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Shuuhei looks at him with eyes swallowed by unadulterated lust. “That was a, _‘fuck, yes.’_ …Kensei.”

Victory unfurls in his chest. With a husky growl, Kensei unties the obi from around the borrowed yukata and reveals his boy properly. He knows Ayasegawa is watching his reaction, but oddly that just makes it all the better. Because this is _his_ now. All this sinewy golden goodness, _his_. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, kid.”

Even as his boy flushes a deep pink, one corner of the thin mouth curls. “I have a name, Kensei. Use it.”

That earns the kid a bellowing laugh from Kensei. “Oh, no, brat. You don’t get to make demands until after you’re good and thoroughly fucked.” His hands make quick work of his own obi and hakama, letting everything below his hipline drop to the floor. And _oh_ he _definitely_ hears the sharp intake of appreciative breath from his boy. “You like what you see?” He goads, giving the slightest of rolls with his hips and growing a little harder at the way Shuuhei’s eyes never leave him. “Not worried I’ll split you right down the middle?”

The kid might as well be drooling. “If it’s _you_ , I wouldn’t care if you did!”

There’s something a little frightening about that: knowing that Shuuhei’s life and sanity are in his hands. But all the gods be damned if he isn’t going to fight tooth and nail to keep his boy safe from now on. _No one_ takes away what’s his. Not anymore.

Kensei sits back on his haunches and pats his lap with a firm hand. “C’mere, brat. I wanna make sure Ayasegawa has the best view as my dick drives you fuckin’ crazy.”

The fifth seat sips his tea in peace, but Kensei could swear that smirk is hiding behind the rim of pottery.

Shuuhei crawls to him on hands and knees, eyes dark and mouth gaping in what Kensei can only describe as _awe_. “That’s good, kid,” and he slides around Shuuhei’s neck with a meaty hand as soon as the kid is within reach. “I like that look in your eyes a whole fuckin’ lot.”

“Kensei~” Oh yeah, Shuuhei is head-over-heels eager, and far be it from Kensei to keep denying his own lust.

“If this is going inside you,” he purrs, gripping the base of his own erection with his free hand, “you should get to know each other first.” And he rises to his knees, pulling Shuuhei in by his established grasp, all but shoving that gorgeously rugged face against hot flesh. The kid wriggles, but only so he can slip his mouth around the thick, purplish head, and _fuck_ does he start sucking like his life depends on it. Takes all of Kensei’s willpower not to start driving down his throat, so good it feels, but Shuuhei is a few steps ahead of him on that matter. The kid takes him in inch by inch until Kensei’s eyes are wide in amazement.

“Oi, brat. There’s this thing called a gag reflex.”

Ayasegawa titters. “Shuu hasn’t had something like that for years now, taichou. He loves giving head, _don’t you_ , Shuuhei?”

A little quiver runs through the kid as he does his best to smile up at Kensei with his mouth so full. Kensei grins and, stabilizing Shuuhei’s head between his hands, slides his hips back in order to thrust forward — _slowly_ , though. So slowly that Shuuhei whines and his fingers knot into the sheets.

Chuckling, Ayasegawa draws a little circle in the air with his index finger. “This is indeed a splendid view. You should see how Shuuhei’s hole is twitching right now, Muguruma-taichou. He must be very impatient with you.”

“Did I _ask_ for your commentary?” Kensei challenges with only a _hint_ of threat, his attention remaining on his boy. “You want me to go faster, brat?”

Another plaintive sound from Shuuhei is confirmation enough, and Kensei increases his pace. Even if Shuuhei is plenty experienced at this, his throat is tight and hot and exactly what Kensei needs. So engrossed does he become that he only barely catches himself before climax. Not yet. No, he’s going to give his boy much more than this.

Shuuhei whimpers at the loss, babbling as soon as he can speak. “K-Kensei, no, I wa… I want you! Let me, please!”

“Hush.” And he isn’t stern with the command, but Shuuhei bites his lip all the same. Kensei cups under Shuuhei’s arms and lifts him until the kid is upright on his knees. How should he have his boy? The possibilities are flitting across his brain too fast.

“As much fun as I’m sure you’re having, Muguruma-taichou, Shuu looks a little dizzy.”

Ayasegawa has a point. It’s no surprise, really, but Shuuhei’s head lolls a little, eyes hazy and blown. Well, at least that settles things. “Lie back,” Kensei instructs in that same tone that surprises even him with its patience, and Shuuhei yields, letting Kensei uphold his weight so he doesn’t drop to the futon roughly. Eventually, they are back to where they’d started, with Shuuhei splayed under Kensei, panting and needy. So beautiful… After stoking heat back to a peak with a few fierce kisses, Kensei speaks, but not to Shuuhei (though his eyes refuse to leave his boy’s breathtaking face).

“Oi, peacock. If you’re going to stick around, why not make yourself useful?”

He can practically _hear_ a feathered eyebrow perch. “In what way?”

“You could come sit over here, with this brat’s head in your lap, so the both of you can see _real good_ as I pound him.”

Shuuhei wriggles, and Kensei squeezes the kid’s arms to hold him still. “Well?” he prompts Ayasegawa.

“Hmm… What’s in it for me? Aside from watching Shuuhei fall apart, that is.”

The kid whines again. “Yumi…”

Finally, Kensei lifts his eyes to the fifth seat. Normally, his prey is _his alone_ , but consider this is his way of thanking the other for forcing Shuuhei and himself to be honest about their desires.  “Since I’ll be occupied between his legs, you can play with him shoulders-up. _That_ should be enough to keep you entertained.”

From the way Ayasegawa’s eyes ignite, Kensei gets confirmation of a suspicion that, _casual_ lovers or not, the fifth seat does desire Shuuhei, care for him even, and the feelings are mutual. And Kensei isn’t so possessive of a person to tear Shuuhei away from someone he loves.

It doesn’t take them long to adjust and resettle. Shuuhei is making noises half-ecstatic and half-spooked — hopefully the kid’s brain isn’t overloading. “This your first threesome, brat?”

Shuuhei shakes his head emphatically, but still seems to be having trouble with words. Ayasegawa leans over and speaks soothingly into the kid’s ear.

“Try to relax, Shuuhei. I know you must be excited — so very excited — but your captain won’t be able to watch your expressions if you pass out. Don’t want that, do you? Calm down, darling.”

As the fifth seat continues to lull thus, Kensei shifts attention elsewhere. Shuuhei’s erection is already leaking precome (not much surprise there), so he grasps the hot flesh and slicks up his hand — and, gods, does Shuuhei shiver beautifully at his touch, gasping deeply only to be muffled by tender little kisses from Ayasegawa (what a cheater). Once his fingers are thoroughly wet, Kensei grips one of Shuuhei’s thighs with his free hand, rolling it up to his boy’s chest and exposing him fully.

“Stay,” he commands, and, obediently, the brat keeps his body still as Kensei examines the soft, shaven skin he finds between those spread legs. He rubs the pad of middle finger from the kid’s sac to his hole, pressing lightly upon arrival until it disappears up to the first knuckle. _Oh_ , how the boy keens then, whimpering for more. As quickly, yet carefully, as he can, Kensei works him open, all the while grinning at Shuuhei, who beams at him open-mouthed. If he’s on cloud nine now, then Kensei can’t wait to be inside him _properly_. Several times, he barely brushes across the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside Shuuhei, and it’s obvious how much the brat wants him to touch there by how he fights the urge to wriggle. But Shuu continues to be good, and Kensei will reward him for it. Fingers withdrawn, he squares his hips to his boy’s, meeting Shuuhei’s blown gaze with his own.

“Are you ready for me, brat?”

The corner of Shuuhei’s mouth twitches upward. “Are… _you_?”

For that snark, Kensei rubs the head of his cock around Shuuhei’s entrance, but makes no move to claim him. “I think I’m gonna need for you to tell me what you’re ready for.”

Shuuhei whines, but it’s obvious that he’s too desperate to put up much of a struggle against the teasing stimulation. “Sh… Shit… K-Kensei…”

“Yes?”

“Please… fuck me. Hard. I need you in me, s… so bad. Fuck, you can turn my gut inside-out, for all I care, just take me right now!”

Well, after asking so nicely, who is Kensei to refuse? He snaps forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one fierce thrust. Shuuhei’s mouth hangs open in a soundless scream as he trembles head to toe from the shock of being filled so suddenly. While Ayasegawa peppers the edge of that open mouth with kisses, Kensei does Shuuhei the kindness of giving him that moment to adjust before he slides back to start pounding his boy but good.

With all his muscle, it only takes a few thrusts for Kensei to establish a rhythm: fast, sharp, and relentless. With each snap of his hips, Shuuhei lets out a little more sound. It almost makes the whole thing a game for Kensei, a test to see whether he can make Shuuhei scream for real.

Ayasegawa smoothes sweaty bangs to one side of Shuuhei’s face and cups his cheeks so that Shuuhei can’t look anywhere but at the junction between his ass and Kensei’s cock. And damn if that isn’t arousing.

“How’s that?” Kensei growls. “You like, brat?”

He makes sure to hit Shuuhei’s prostate with the next thrust, and the moan dragged from his boy’s throat is an answer plenty.

“With how much he’s trembling,” Ayasegawa notes, depositing another kiss to Shuuhei’s temple, “I doubt he’ll last much longer.”

Kensei grins, no reservations in the feral glint of his teeth. “That so?”

Spreading Shuuhei’s legs a little wider, Kensei changes his angle again, aiming right at the deepest parts of Shuuhei. His boy’s eyes go wide as Kensei picks up his pace again, slamming over and over into that sweet spot of bliss. Shuuhei does scream then, his body taut like a bow before he lurches, back arching, and his insides clamp down around Kensei. Hot stripes of cum decorate Shuuhei’s chest as he reaches climax, wailing Kensei’s name. Kensei doesn’t let up through the brat’s orgasm, but keeps on pounding, chasing his own end now. From Shuuhei’s blissed-out expression, he doesn’t mind.

It doesn’t take much longer for Kensei to catch up. The sight of this beautiful body wrung out just does something to him. He doesn’t pull out when he comes, and instead he watches the way Shuuhei’s face twitches with satisfaction at the sensation of hot and wet filling him up.

Kensei can’t help but growl. He’s never seen anyone so happy to have been fucked by him, and it grabs at every possessive bone in his body.

“Not bad, brat,” he pants, reaching forward to tousle Shuuhei’s already disheveled hair. Shuuhei just keens, like he might start purring if Kensei pets him enough.

“It was a good show,” Ayasegawa chirps, smirk firmly in place. But he seems able to shift gears quite quickly. “Now, then, Muguruma-taichou, if you would help Shuuhei with the bath, I’ll get some food together for him.”

Though Kensei does not at all like being told what to do, the cocky fifth seat had put enough consideration into his tone to make it more of a request. Besides, Shuuhei looks like his adrenaline is wearing off, leaving him at the brink of total exhaustion. So he grunts agreement — or maybe the grunt is just from pulling out of Shuuhei’s pliant body — before easing his arms under Shuuhei’s back so as to lever him up from the floor. Ayasegawa helps long enough to lift Shuuhei’s head from his lap and make sure Kensei won’t strain his neck (honestly, the kid’s not a baby!), but then glides away to the little kitchen of the suite.

With no trouble at all, Kensei totes Shuuhei to the bathroom. Ayasegawa must have employed the forethought to run the water hot, because it’s still plenty warm by the time Kensei dips a hand in to test it. Getting no protest from Shuuhei, Kensei sponges him off, then lifts him into the tub. Once confident that Shuuhei is settled comfortably, Kensei takes up a cross-legged watch beside him.

“No more serious exertion for a little while, got it?”

Shuuhei’s mouth twitches toward a smile. “Who is it… who just encouraged me… to take part in serious exertion?”

“Mm, Point taken.”

Slowly, Shuuhei turns so that he can look Kensei in the eye while propping his head up on the shoulder under him. The look in his hazy grey eyes is… well, Kensei finds himself having a hard time meeting it. Why is that? Has it just been so long since someone who wasn’t one of the other visoreds had looked at him like he meant the so much to them? Or maybe it’s just because the look in Shuuhei’s eyes is deeper than that. It’s a look that says there is no world without Kensei in it.

“Am I dreaming?” asks Shuuhei, his voice faint and fragile.

Kensei smiles, and it’s softer than his usual. He reaches over and cards fingers through damp dark hair, and a growl of satisfaction curls in his chest at the way Shuuhei leans into his touch.

“Do you wanna be?”

“…No. I’d much rather this be real.”

“It’s real, kid.”

“You want me to stay?”

“I do. Hell, I… I want _you_ — period, end of sentence.” Because admitting that brings an unexpected flush to his cheeks, he quickly adds, “And, trust me, that was nothing compared to the mischief we can get up to once you’re feeling more like yourself.”

Shuuhei actually grins at him, and Kensei can’t help but grin back. He’s glad he didn’t throw away this kid through his blunders. Juggling the chain of command along with a relationship won’t be a walk in the park, but Kensei is certain wading through the muck will be worth it, so long as he can keep those eyes on him, just like this.

“Kensei.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you going to do about Kuna-san?”

Well, shit… Kensei hadn’t thought that far.

 


End file.
